


In Need

by PacketofRedApples



Category: Space Force (TV)
Genre: Beta Read, Break Up Talk, Feelings Realization, Hurt/Comfort, Love Confessions, Lovers Quarrel, M/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Pining, Serious Injuries, Shaving, failed blowjobs
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-17
Updated: 2020-08-07
Packaged: 2021-03-03 20:27:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 8
Words: 17,716
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24771628
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PacketofRedApples/pseuds/PacketofRedApples
Summary: At least standing up for somebody you care for would be a noble way to die, right? In that case, getting shot isn't so bad.
Relationships: General Mark R. Naird/Dr. Adrian Mallory
Comments: 33
Kudos: 80





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hopefully, I can get this all written quickly, as I do want to finish this. I'm not certain how many chapters it'll be but hmm well we'll see. I do have some ideas written down and another fic for these two in motion...
> 
> Thank you to Nxcht on here for beta-reading this for me <3 (Sorry, Nxcht, for dragging you into this even though you're not in the fandom).  
> Also, sorry, johnbrannox, that it isn't your boy going through the whump :b (But at least he's suffering emotionally, am I right?).

They drive far into Wild Horse, far from the base to a liquor store. Both bickering over something insignificant. It was pretty idyllic for that split second.

Mark had suggested they buy some drinks and drive back to his place to get wasted after the week they had... Adrian had agreed quickly for once, which was not in line with how he acted afterward. Complaining and picking fights ("Mark, you might as well drink hand sanitizer at this rate" and "Mark, do you have even have taste buds"). But then again that's what Mark appreciated about him in some odd way. It felt good to hang out with Adrian regardless of the fighting... it kept him on his toes perhaps.

They stop at the parking lot next to the store and Mallory glances at Mark.

"Anything else I should pick up?" The scientist asks as he opens the door, sparing a quick glance at the other who shakes his head.

"No, I’m good." Mark watches the man get out of the car, an absent smile on his lips before he takes out the keys. After Mallory gets inside the store, Mark gets out of the car in need to stretch his legs at least a little. Naird had given up on arguing over what they should get ultimately, and allowed for the other to make his own choice. He leans against the car, closing his eyes and happily humming as the cold desert night air settles on his skin. It felt nice. He felt… content. Not something he’d expect but getting away from work with a promise of good company cheered him up already.

Mark crosses his arms, opens his eyes upon hearing chatter pass him by. He glances momentarily at the youngsters walking into the store. It’s a concerning sight, but he won’t let it get between him and his good mood. He adjusts his hoodie, zipping it up, having the unpleasant reminder of the low-temperature drops in deserts. He sighs, realizing he had changed out of his uniform into civilian clothes when he got home but by the point, he picked up Mallory—he looked mostly identical to his work clothes. It was a reassuring constant, in a weird sense.

He glances inside the store and through the windows spots Mallory picking out alcohol, already holding one bottle in his hands. Mark grins, looking away, doesn’t quite spot the youth who jeer at him from where they stand in the store, near the cash register. By the point Naird looks back in, he sees the chief scientist walking towards the cashier, looking annoyed at the ‘kids’ and there’s an odd foreboding feeling settling in the general’s chest. The doctor pays and turns around, as the youngsters beginning to say something to him. Naird straightens from his spot on the car and stands up, now frowning. Mallory replies and Mark doesn’t have to have known him that long to know it was snarky at the least, but regardless the bearded man walks out through the door, ignoring the small crowd following him.

“Ready to go?” Adrian quickly asks upon exiting the store, the few that followed him laugh. Mark’s face looks more than just annoyed at the pest.

“Yeah, get in the car.” The general says, before walking towards the youths, who just seem amused. Mallory doesn’t question it, instead, he puts away the two bottles in the backseat and gets into the passenger side of the car, all the while looking uncomfortable. Mark squares up the small crowd. “What seems to be so funny?”

“He’s your boyfriend?”

“That would be none of your concern, even if he was. Now get the hell out of here.” Naird tries to intimidate. It doesn’t exactly work being of his height and of his prevailing air. This is even more evident when the few youths that were there laugh again.

“Yeah, and what are you gonna do if we don’t?” One of them speaks up, resting his hand on something in the back of his jeans.

“Possibly force some common sense and decency into you.”

“Wow, that’s scary, old man.” The sarcasm spills from the brim of those words.

“Mark, just get in the car.” The doctor raises his voice, in disbelief he has to say this. Did the other have no self-preservation?

“Calm down, Adrian, I’m just having a conversation with them.” The general replies off-handedly, not facing away from the younger few.

“Adrian, huh?” The one guy in the back says a shit-eating grin bracing his face.

“Seriously, the hell do you want? What’s your problem?” Mark’s inquiry is moot, there’s no context in which he should ask it.

The punks laugh. And the one guy with his hand behind himself takes a grip of whatever he has and points it at Naird. A gun. He has a fucking gun and Mallory’s breathe hitches, but he doesn’t say anything. For once he hopes Mark has enough smarts to keep this under wraps. Walk away.

He does not. It seems he eyes the weapon but doesn’t back away in any sense.

“Just gives us your money, you geezers, and we’ll be done.”

“Yeah, don’t think so.” Now Naird seems to grin sardonically and Mallory’s too busy burying his face in his hands to really figure out what the other was trying to do. He couldn’t look. He was terrified now as any sane person would be. The guy with the gun walks closer.

“You think we’re playing? Stop being a hero and give us the cash.” Mark actually chuckles at that.

“I suggest you walk away from this, you’re not going to shoot me and screw up the rest of your life. Come on, you have got to be smarter than that.” Mark is so sure of himself, he takes a quick and large step forward as he shouldn't have done. It seems in a bout of sudden panic at the fast movement the kid tries to grip the gun tighter but his finger slips and he pulls the trigger. Mark freezes and Adrian jerks at the sudden sound, looking at the other man with wide eyes. The ‘kids’ yell a plethora of profanities and throw the blame on each other for a split second or two before suddenly running away, seemingly more scared of the repercussions of what they have done rather than the harm they caused.

Mallory gets out of the car as soon as they’re gone, looking over Mark, trying to understand if he is harmed.

The bullet hit him in the stomach, off to the lower left, sending the general staggering on his feet as he grabs onto the entry wound dropping everything he had in hand... he forcefully keeps himself upright which doesn't last long. Soon his legs buckle and he collapses on the ground with a heavy thud and a wave of pain travels through him. He tries to focus his eyes but it's easier said than done. The high pitched sound in his ear like one long beep keeps ringing and ringing. He doesn't hear Mallory's voice as he approaches. He doesn't hear how the other calls his name. Only vaguely sees a shape approach him and fall on their knees next to him. It hurts like a bitch but that's not new, Naird thinks right before everything in his eyes gets too blurry.

"Mark! Mark! Just breathe." Adrian says, or yells, even as he’s trying not to raise his voice too much. There’s panic in his chest, settling deep behind his ribs, becoming a strong driving force. His hand painfully grabs onto Naird's wrist, feeling for the pulse. Meanwhile, his other hand is too busy taking out his phone and dialing emergency services.

“H- hey. It’s fine, I’ve been through worse.” Mark says and tries to chuckle but it comes out too pained and weak. He tries to move, but Adrian let’s go of his wrist and presses him down back to the ground.

"Easy now." Mallory hushes him, as there’s suddenly a voice on the phone. The scientist wastes no time and instantly explains the situation and their location, telling the woman on the other end his number out sheer fear forcing him to remember what to do. He makes sure to mention that the man shot isn’t a civilian. Upon getting confirmation of an ambulance arriving, Adrian nests the phone between his ear and shoulder and uses his now free hands to move Mark’s own from where they frailly pressed onto the wound, despite the aggravated hisses from the general.

He looks at it, evaluating the injury before he speaks.

“It looks pretty deep in. I can’t see the bullet, but I also didn’t notice an exit wound.” He tells the women on the phone, who pauses for a second too long for Adrian’s liking.

“Just press down on the bullet hole and wait for an ambulance. Use a clean cloth of any sort if you have it and don’t let him pass out.” The woman says. Adrian nods as if she can see him.

“Okay, will do.”

“Don’t move away from him.” The woman says, Adrian nods absently once and places his phone next to himself, turning on speakerphone, the other hand taking out a pocket square from his suit’s jacket. He presses it first onto the wound with his hands now both on top.

“Just, stay awake, Mark.” Mallory says but despite that the other looks at him with half-lidded eyes, seemingly close to unconsciousness. “Mark, listen to me!”

“S- sorry.” Mark mutters back, voice hoarse.

“You sing, right? When you’re stressed, you think people don’t notice, but they do.” Adrian rushes to say, ignoring the embarrassment that would occur with the operator still on the line. “Why don’t we do that now?”

“Sure…” Mark smiles, weakly, not questioning it too much. Hopefully, there’s time for that later. “What… what song?”

Adrian thinks for a moment, evaluating what they both might know, sparing a glance at Mark’s pale expression. Before he just sighs and begins singing the first song that comes to his mind. Mark chuckles at the choice but joins in with a shaky voice. It’s far too slow of a tempo for how “Stuck in the Middle with you” actually goes, but suppose that doesn’t matter. By the point they get one third through it at that rate, there’s a siren being heard in the back and Adrian shuts up, so does Mark after a second, trailing off.

“It’s almost here.” Mallory says, looking at Mark, who is far too pale to seem even remotely like his usual self.

“You’re doing well, just keep him awake longer.” The operator explains. “Don’t panic now.”

“Okay.” Adrian says, not even sparing a second to look at his phone.

“If anything happens, tell Maggie and Erin I—“Mark tries to say, but he seems to lack the words now. He pauses to think about it, but his mind is sort of hazy.

“No.” Adrian cuts him off from looking for the right term, sounding more than just a little angry at the suggestion. “You’ll be fine. You’re going to stay alive.” Mark doesn’t reply, just smirks for a split second and closes his eyes.

The ambulance pulls up next to them; two medics get out of it in a rush, getting the stretcher from the back and running towards the general and scientist on the ground. Adrian only can tell this is happening from the sound as his eyes are too fixed on his friend.

“Mark, please. Don’t.” The doctor says with his voice low and soft all at once. “He closed his eyes!” He says, a little too loudly, turning to his phone to note the silence from it.

“The paramedics are there. They’ll handle it from here, cooperate, sir. Calm down.” The woman says, eventually. Soon the crew removes Adrian from Mark, moving the shot man into the ambulance, Mallory jumps to his feet and follows them.

“Can I go with him?” He quickly asks and the men exchange a look, not stopping in their actions before one shakes his head.

“Sorry, transport’s full.” He explains, afterward jumping out of the back and rushing to the driver’s side.

“Which hospital!?” Adrian quickly asks before they have a chance to leave. The guy closing the doors replies too fast, but Mallory understands. They ride off soon after with the doctor looking after the EMS’ exit from the scene.

Being left alone, he stands still till he can’t hear the sirens as loudly anymore; Adrian swallows a lump in his throat as he looks over his blood-soaked hands. After a second of consideration, he walks back to the car, picking up the keys Mark had dropped and his phone from the ground along the way. Once inside, he starts the engine and drives off.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This would have been faster if my life hadn't fallen apart in between this and the previous chapter. Sorry. lol.   
> Anyway, writing short chapters (or short by my definition) is helping me get these out faster, I think. So here's to hoping I can get ch3 out sooner than later, too.  
> Again, thank you Nxcht for the beta-read! Also, thank you johnbrannox for helping me with certain parts of the dialog! <3

Waiting outside the ICU for General Mark Naird’s daughter was not something Mallory expected to live through. Yet, here he was, for once sitting down like a normal human being rather than sprawling all over. He’s never felt this high strung. Not even launching a rocket could make him this fucking high strung. God, he needed a break. A long break, and a warm bath, with salts. He needed to clean himself of the blood, even if it was Mark’s, it felt…unsettling to know particles of it still settled on his skin. His suit, too. He needed to change out of it. He wanted to rest, forget this happened. Go into work the next day to argue with General Naird again, the one who didn’t get shot because he wanted to play white knight. But whatever alternative reality that was, it wasn’t the one Mallory was in.

“Is he okay?” A voice snaps him out of the daze; it’s shaking despite trying to sound together. Adrian looks up, to take in the sight of the crying girl. He thinks he should probably comfort her, but lying doesn’t seem like the best option here and definitely not to his taste.

“I don’t know.” He mutters, making his sullen mood obvious. Feeling far too childish over it, he looks away from her.

“Shit, man, you don’t know? What the fuck were you doing here then?” Erin argues, infuriated and her tears running down her cheeks now before she quickly wipes them away. “Is he even alive?”

Adrian shrugs, not wanting to use his voice for this anymore.

The truth of the matter is, he was either still in surgery or just got out, he didn’t hear from anyone yet though. Having found where Mark was, he instantly called Brad to ask for Erin’s number so he could contact her as soon as possible. After hearing the teenager break down on the other end of the line, he bit back any upset feelings he had and asked her if he should pick her up.

She said she’d get there on her own.

So now, more than half an hour later since then, they were here. With Erin possibly ready to berate Mallory over how this all was his fault. Which he didn’t want to get into any time soon. Thankfully, or not, his brain was doing that to him already. So instead, he looked at the hall taking one towards the exit of the hospital and spots two uniformed men walking up. Oh great, he forgot about this part.

* * *

The conversation with the police officers is offensive, to say the least. Their questions are intrusive, uncomfortable. Erin bites her tongue through it. Afterward, once they are settled with the responses or just run out of questions, they walk further into the hospital, leaving with Adrian glaring after the two figures.

The girl sits down next to the doctor, not looking at him, instead, joining him in glaring in the officer’s direction.

“You hang out a lot with dad. More than I do.” She makes a comment, without much thought behind it. Adrian readjusts his eyes to her, trying to figure out just what she’s getting at.

“We work together.” The scientist reasons, trying not to have the other possibly start a scene while not being entirely sure where this conversation was going.

“You’re important to him.” She sighs, tears forming in her eyes again, but she holds them back like a champ.

“I’m not sure I follow.” Adrian says, genuinely at loss.

“He never willingly hung out with work friends. He used to rather spend time with family, and keep work as far away as possible. Now he won’t give me more than a minute of his time but he’d give you all of it.” The girl looks at him now, frowning.

“I…” Mallory begins, clearing his throat. “I don’t think that’s the case, really. We just so happen to work together. I’m sure he’d rather spend time with you.” There’s a weak smile on his lips as if to express how absurd her statements are.

“You sit on the porch together, drinking, when he knows he should be helping me with math homework. You go shopping with him, instead of him taking me. And lately, most of the time when he’s talking about work, he doesn’t shut up about you.” Erin now glares and the older man is at loss for words.

“I’m… sorry.”

* * *

Mark Naird awakes to find himself covered in intrusive tubes and an incisive beeping in the room. As he glances around the room, he spots a familiar figure sitting in a close-by chair, seemingly in thought or trying not to fall asleep.

Mark tries to speak up, but his voice is raw and the sounds that come out don’t count as words, but he spends a minute trying to regain the ability which only catches the attention of the scientist in the room. He’s oddly sure the first thing the doctor will say upon realizing that he is awake, is a complaint about ruining his outfit. Nothing of the like comes.

“How are you feeling?” Adrian beats him to it.

Mark struggles before speaking, his voice coming out gruffer than ever before. After several attempts, he finally manages to say something resembling words.

“Decent in terms of being shot.” Mallory laughs, grimly. "What’s up with your lip?”

“I bit through it from stress.” Adrian explains, rather drily from his chair as his hands absently trying to pick out the dried blood from underneath his fingernails. “You would not believe the number of hospitals I had to go through to find you…”

“What?” Mark, confused in his own right, doesn’t follow.

“They didn’t let me ride with the ambulance. Didn’t tell me where they were taking you, either.” Adrian sighs, now looking at the general once more.

“That’s ridiculous.” It’s too obvious to say, but Naird does it anyway.

“I know.”

“Where’s…” Mark trails off, seemingly worried.

“Your daughter is here, she went to get something from the vending machine.” Mallory explains to calm him down. “Sorry I didn’t tell her right away. I didn’t want to bother her till I knew where you were.”

They fall into silence then, with Adrian looking away from the other man, too deep in thought about something and not comfortable enough to express it. It’s an awkward quiet, however, something that wasn’t common between them. So tense that Mark has to say something to distract from it.

“How did you know I sing? Does everyone really know?”

“Hmm?” Mallory shifts, now avoidant in eye contact. “I don’t know about everyone, but I noticed. I think everyone has.” He swallows. "You sang at the lunar habitat..."

"Oh." Mark mutters as if he isn’t embarrassed about it. He contemplates what else to say but the entrance of somebody else in the room alerts him.

“Dad! Erin rushes closer to him, placing down a fresh water bottle on the bedside table, looking at him gloomily. Mark struggles to figure out what to tell her to keep her calm. Everything in his head centers on her, the way he knows he has to do or say something to make sure she’ll be fine.

“Hey, bug.” He begins, smiling absently out of habit, moving his hand to reach for hers. She takes it and holds tightly. He’s at a loss for words, still undetermined. He thinks of how she’ll be alone for a while again, till he can get home. And even then, he probably will annoy her. He worries about them not getting along again, that this is just a temporary closeness.

Dr. Mallory stands up from the seat and moves towards the door, knocking Mark’s awareness of his surroundings back into him. He looks at the man and Erin’s eyes follow as well.

“Wait, Adrian, where –?”

“Home. I need to get to work on Monday.” He explains, not facing them, just exiting the room. Mark feels an undeniable disappointment in this but pushes it aside to look back at Erin. The girl doesn’t say anything, letting go of his hand.

* * *

He gets home at six in the morning.

The first thing he does upon returning home was take off his suit, as it was dusty and bloody, making Mallory sick to his stomach at the mere thought of it. With the clothes lying on his couch, leaving him just in his undershirt and boxer briefs, he looks at them contemplating if it was even worth trying to dry clean it. Starting from the jacket’s cuffs having droplets of blood on it to the area around the knees of his pants being severely dirty from the parking lot flooring. His vest and button-up also suffered stains of blood, so did the tie, somehow. All of it covered in Mark’s blood… It’s a quick decision upon looking it over, that he chooses to throw it out.

Walking into the kitchen he grabs a trash bag from one of the cupboards, returns to the living room, and shoves all the articles of clothing into it. It should have felt like a waste, however, he really felt it was a better option. He ties the corners of the bag together and drops it by his door.

Two steps at a time, he walks up to the second floor of his house, and bee-lines to the bathroom. Turns on the shower and gets in, undressed. While inside, he spends several minutes busily trying to use the water to clean out the redness from under his nails. The skin on Adrian’s bruised knees begins to sting from the hot water. Eventually, he sighs quietly and finishes washing up, before getting out from under the stream. Dries himself, still catching glances at his nails that were very much still holding traces of the unmentionable.

Mallory walks into his bedroom and only then belatedly realizes he has Mark’s car and that the steering wheel and such are covered in blood. Adrian would have to clean that off and return it to him. Maybe tomorrow, maybe even later…

For now, he changes into clean pajamas and collapses onto his bed. Once comfortable under the covers, he takes the spare pillow and presses it between his chest and arms, burying his face in it. This was unpleasant and hopefully, the pressure will keep him calm enough for some odd hours of sleep.

He passes out soon after from exhaustion catching up to him.

The following morning, he curses himself out under his breath, trying to clean out the blood in the car.

* * *

Monday. Usually a day Mallory wouldn’t mind, but here he was – walking into the building and even before he could go into his office, none other but Space Force’s media manager jumps to his side. Adrian wants to ignore him, not answer any questions, but he also knows there’s no way around this.

“Hey, so don’t you think that maybe you should have told me, ya’know, that he man in charge of Space Force got shot?” Fuck Tony says, sounding incredibly annoyed, more so than he had the right to be. Especially at Adrian.

“I didn’t see a point in it.” Adrian’s tone is dry; he’s pissed off at this conversation happening despite knowing full well it will occur. 

“I manage his twitter, come on. Radio silence when something this major happens - it’s a fucking catastrophe, man! I’m supposed to be the first responder!” Scarapiducci is somewhere between looking at his phone, typing frantically, and actually paying attention to walking beside the scientist.

“Okay, next time Mark gets shot, I’ll call you first.” Adrian can’t help it. But this seems to get the other to calm down.

“Thanks.” Tony replies, now only slightly sarcastic. He looks away from his phone, now paying full mind to the other. “Is… is he okay, though?”

“He’s alive last I saw him, yes.” There’s really no desire or need to get into the details. Mallory attempts to pretend he hasn’t been thinking of the incident and Mark nonstop since he got home, correction—since it happened.

“Should we, like, send him flowers or something? What hospital is he even in?” Fuck Tony’s attention was held shortly, he looks back to his phone, typing something again.

“Do as you wish, it’s none of my business.” Adrian goes to unlock his door and quick ducks through it into his office. Tony finally raises his eyes at him again.

“Your best friend got fucking shot, man, you’re not even going to send him flowers?” Tony says casually, despite the statement being accusatory. Mallory hangs up on a different part of it.

“Best friend?” He asks, returning the few steps he made into his office back to the door, to look at the younger man.

“Yeah! You’re like the entire base’s favorite Bromance.”

“Ugh.” It is the last thing spoken by Adrian as he closes the door to his office.

Once alone in the room, Mallory looks around, before slowly approaching his desk and collapsing into his chair. Today was going to be a long day.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Shout out to Nxcht again for beta reading this!! Love you, boo. 
> 
> Hopefully, not getting too OOC by now... Also, apologies I can't get these out exactly weekly.

After spending several minutes residing in his office, musing on Mark more than he knew he should allow himself to, especially given the circumstances, the Doctor stands from his spot and strides out of the room. He had business to attend to around the base, so best get to it, right?

His mind still settles on thoughts of the General on the ground, bleeding. He hates that. Hates that it’s almost a fond memory of them being that close to each other, when it was such an unfortunate moment.

Firstly he stopped by the lab which would have been okay on any given day but seems due to what had occurred that Friday, he couldn’t get rid of the looks everyone was giving him. How the hell did everyone know?

While talking to Dr. Chan he notes the behavior the younger man has been skipping around. Like he wants to elaborate and express something but can’t quite find a way to do it. Obviously not due to lack of vocabulary or understanding, but because it was a touchy topic and he knew the older would react oddly. Mallory understood too well what he had in mind and probably should not have pushed it, but it got on his nerves—as much as he appreciated the other’s input and their teamwork, this wasn’t going to go well if the other kept at it.

“Something bothering you?” Adrian inquires while looking over a file in his hands. The one they were in the midst of discussing. Chan swallows, uncomfortably, before choosing his next words very carefully.

“Condolences about what happened. It must be hard.” He says, expressing true kindness but Adrian’s too caught up in annoyance over this even occurring. He closes the document and looks over at the astrobotanist.

“It’s fine. Mark’s alive... It’s not my business anymore, anyway. I just so happened to be with him when it ensued. It’s not like I’m the one who got hurt, so save your condolences for the General.” The words are curt but honest—or so would the older man say they were. Dr. Chan furrows his brows at him, a bit at loss, and very skeptical.

“You two are very close, so I do think it must have struck you hard. It’s okay, you’ll get through this.” The younger offers in a casual matter, which only results in Adrian sighing in frustration. Just how dear did everyone think they were to each other? Surely, it wasn’t that obvious how badly the older scientist cared for the General…. really? It was already shameful enough he did. But now having to deal with everyone addressing it, he doesn’t think he’ll manage to not snap.

Mallory drops the file onto the tabletop which slaps against it and makes Dr. Chan flinch lightly. With that done, with little to no regard, the chief scientist turns on his heel and storms out of the lab.

* * *

Honestly, Adrian knew that as bad as he wanted the rest of the day to go by smoothly and without mention of Mark Naird getting shot, it just couldn’t happen. Around lunch, he went to the cafeteria, continuing with his efforts of trying to ignore the looks he’s been getting the entire day. The scientist got some food and sat down at an empty table in a far corner of the room. Content in some semblance of peace, even if people couldn’t entirely keep to themselves, it should go fine. He could bare stares, he’s been through worse…

His phone pings with a notification, and he fights a huff taking it out and unlocking it. Jerome. Fuck, he actually forgot to call him on the weekend.

‘Hey, how are you!??’ the text reads. Adrian fumbles with the phone for a few seconds, texting back as fast as he can at that moment.

‘Busy weekend, some stuff came up. Sorry. I am okay, while not in the greatest mood. You?’ Mallory explains, not wanting to get into detail, yet worry strikes him regardless.

‘I’m doing great. Met this one guy… I really miss you.’ Adrian smiles lightly at that. Jerome would disregard his often foul moods and that was more than okay.

‘Miss you, too.’

Mallory would have been pleased to continue texting with his significant other but finds his mind wandering. There’s a feeling of unpleasantness settling in his stomach, like he’s between a rock and a hard place, right now. While it’s true he almost lost somebody dear to him, it was also clear that the person didn’t care as much in return. Besides, Adrian was happy with how and with who he was right now. He thinks so at least… This thought leaves him sitting with his pathetic lunch cooling in front of him as he aimlessly stares at his phone.

Adrian’s phone vibrating stirs him out of the mood, as he looks over the unknown caller he sighs heavily and picks up.

“Dr. Adrian Mallory—“He starts, but before he can finish asking what business this is about, a girl’s voice cuts through.

“Are you visiting dad today?” Erin…

“I had no such plans, no.” He’s already too hung up on what happened; having to engage in further conversation with the shot man would only be rubbing salt into both their injuries, thankfully only proverbially. While Mallory knew he had to make amends and all this bullshit eventually, for now, he just wanted to sulk.

“I can’t go today, I have tons of homework—can you take some stuff to him? I kind of forgot to bring a few things last time.” What a lovely picture of blissful family life this was… Adrian’s bitterness gets the better of him at that moment but he manages to bite his tongue before he says anything that might hinder this conversation. Accepting his fate, he rolls his eyes.

“Fine, I’ll do it.” His tone oozes exasperation, however.

“Great! Can you pick it up at five? I’ll have it packed by then.”

“Yes, that’s fine.” Mallory pinches the brim of his nose, trying to fend off any other annoyance he may feel at this.

“Okay, thanks!” She hangs up.

It takes everything within the doctor’s very core to not groan at this, he wasn’t particularly fond of teenagers, especially now. But what could one do besides just endure?

He places his phone away and starts to eat his food.

* * *

Upon entering the room, Adrian can’t help but note the blue iris bouquet on the bedside table, while not actually identifying the flower or knowing its meaning, he realized Tony must have sent them—most likely on behalf of everyone in the base... Mallory tries not to cringe at it. Instead focuses his eyes on the man in the bed, now slightly scruffy and very pale.

“Hey.” Mark says, weakly from his spot where he lay once he realizes the scientist is there.

“Hey… did Fuck Tony send those?” Dr. Mallory makes a motion towards the flowers, before making his way to sit down in the chair by the bed.

“Yeah, he did. I suppose it says it’s from everyone at Space Force but... Kind of awkward, I’m not really a flower man.”

“Figures.” The doctor says under his breath, before sitting down in the chair, leaning so to rest his face against his hand, elbow on the arm of the said chair. He gets comfortable. The bag of things asked to be brought by Erin rest by his feet.

“Hey, um… I just wanted to thank you. For what you did… I’d probably be dead if it wasn’t for you.”

“You wouldn’t even be in this situation if it wasn’t for me.” That’s true as far as Mallory sees it, and it makes him ill at ease to have to say it—but apparently, it needed to be said.

“Doesn’t matter—just… thank you.” Mark says, looking straight into the other’s man’s eyes, only the glasses on the older protecting him from the sheer awkwardness of this contact… or well, it helps none but he pretends.

“Well, a friend in need…” He doesn’t finish that thought, doesn’t agree with it. It—this—wasn’t friendship. Unfortunately, Adrian knew he felt something else that was much deeper than that, but he didn’t allow himself to dwell on it. Save himself the angst of having to accept the fact… that, well, it doesn’t matter. Mark Naird was a married man, anyway. This would get messy if he said or did anything he actually wanted to. Besides, Jerome was very much a presence in his own life. It would be unfair to everyone involved.

Mark smiles, weakly but definitely, Adrian shifts in his spot, dropping his hand into his lap and straightening in the chair. Every second, looking at the General in this state was a terrible experience. He wanted to do something… but feared what it may be.

“Erin asked me to bring you this—“He points at the bag on the floor. “I think I’ll leave now, actually.”

“You don’t have to.” Mark tries to reason.

“But I also don’t have to stay. I see no reason to hang around…I might as well leave.” Mallory’s both hands still rest on his lap and his fingers intertwine, he doesn’t make a move to exit despite meaning it.

“It’s sort of… lonely. Can you stay longer?” Mark’s voice has never been so soft and genuine in front of the scientist and for a moment Adrian contemplates if this is real or a stress-induced dream parodying his own pathetic life.

Regardless, Mallory nods—yes. He’ll stay to keep some company for the other.

“Till visiting hours end, then.” Mallory looks away, feeling the need to fight down any sign of defeat. It was hard for him to say no to Mark. Especially now.

They chat about work and other passing topics for a couple of hours till Mark doesn’t feel himself falling asleep. After spending a moment in silence afterward, Adrian leaves.

* * *

Mallory enters his house, the first thing he does upon entering (besides kicking off his shoes) was drag himself to the kitchen and take out a bottle of whiskey he had lying around. After finding a glass fitting enough, he pours himself a drink and downs it without hesitance.

His phone pings as he’s pouring himself another. He checks it as he raises his glass to his lips, only to drink it down the same.

‘I heard what happened. Why didn’t you tell me?’ It reads. It’s from Jerome. But Adrian doesn’t bother replying. Instead, he places his phone on the counter, picks up the bottle, and walks to his living room, satisfied with the idea of passing out there as he drinks down the entire bottle. He needed it from the moment he walked into the hospital room.

He doesn’t want to admit it, but seeing Mark anything but capable left a sickly feeling in him. Adrian just couldn’t tolerate it… Hoping this bottle will be more than enough for him to get through this night without thinking about Naird too much. It probably won’t.

He sprawls out on the couch, drinks more.

At the point of him being half a bottle in and an hour late, there’s been just about a two dozen times of his phone notifying him of new text. Eventually, it rings, but Adrian just rolls his eyes and tries to ignore it. About a minute later, he can’t stand the melody anymore and stands up, ambles along to the device, picking up the caller without having to read the ID.

“Adrian, why are you ignoring me?” Is the first thing he hears from the other end. Jerome’s voice is full of concern.

“I don’t want to talk about it.” The doctor replies, only slightly slurred in his speech. “Stop trying to talk to me about it.”

“I know you’re upset, it’s not just a collogue but a close friend that got seriously hurt… you know better than anybody why bottling that up could end badly.”

“He’s—Mark’s not a close friend…” Adrian speaks up, feeling the alcohol’s buzz affecting him strengthen.

“What do you mean…?”

“I think I like him more than that.” He admits, to himself and to Jerome, too, unfortunately. A long silence passes between them.

“You’re drunk, aren’t you?” The man on the other end sounds oddly despondent. Mallory knows he fucked up.

“Somewhat, but what I said is true.” Rubs his eyes as he speaks.

“Get some rest, then. We’ll figure this out tomorrow.”

Despite knowing the other can’t see him; Adrian nods, and hangs up, then goes back to the living room, collapses onto the couch, and continues drinking.

Tomorrow is not going to be a good day either, it seems.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for the kind comments, even I don't know how to reply to everyone... I really appreciate it, means the world to me!  
> Thank you also obviously to Nxcht for beta-reading this for me, still. Love you, Sunny! <3
> 
> Starset's "Starlight" is helping me get in the mood for this at the moment.

Awaking on his couch, Adrian uncomfortably shifts, feeling the ache that settles deep in his bones. This was not a pleasant place to sleep and his dreams certainly did not help… He couldn’t recall the details but it played off of Mark and him with a feeling of doom looming over. Adrian did not enjoy it and quite obvious as to why not. He sits up and feels the slight headache forming in the back of his skull. Not the worst of hangovers he ever had, but it wasn’t a nice feeling regardless. Mallory stands then stretches and stalks over to his kitchen, where he downs an aspirin. Afterward, with that out of the way, he goes upstairs to shower.

When he gets out and gets dressed, he goes back downstairs and only then picks up his phone to check the time. His biological clock, even when inebriated, worked. He had an hour before work. While usually not an early bird, over the past year waking up early has become the norm. Without much thought, he picks up his things and heads out to the car. He’ll eat later, for now, he doesn’t want to bother with that. He tries to continue with the daily routine, like not thinking of Mark is easy… but it’s not. The moment he gets in the car and looks at the rearview mirror, he notices the General’s car still standing by his house. Sighs a ‘god damn it’ under his breath.

And he stares at its reflection for a good minute, feeling sicker in his stomach about it, the fact that Mark was ridiculous enough to really want to help in a matter that didn’t require it… It messed with Adrian. The way he didn’t want to like Mark more than a colleague but it was harder than anticipated. With every word spoken by the General about the good in humanity and such, with his eyes lighting up with every word—it was so easy to fall into that pit and then not want to get out. Mallory was finally deciding on it, he needed to accept the unfortunate truth…

He was in love with General Mark R. Naird and it was a hurtful, wicked thing.

Adrian sighs and looks away from the mirror, then is about to start his car when his ringtone goes off.

Jerome Lalosz… Somebody who’s calls or texts and of course presence would bring a smile to Adrian on a normal day didn’t quite do it now. He knew he fucked up last night. Said more than needed to be… Loose lips sink relationships, while not how the saying went; it felt more accurate like that. Not that the original idiom wouldn’t translate the point. His life was shattering and it was his own entire fault.

Mallory picks up.

“Hey, sorry about last night.” He begins, ready to somehow find a way to make amends even if it meant drowning the other man in apologies.

“Listen, I thought about it—and I think it might be better for us to see other people anyway. We could still stay friends if you want to.” The voice on the other end of the phone sounds oddly peppy, considering how grim the subject matter actually felt.

“What? Jerome, that’s absurd. I didn’t mean what I said, I was drunk.” While a sound enough argument if one didn’t think about it too much, the other doesn’t fall for it. Quite frankly, he seems disinterested in this.

“No, I don’t think so. You meant it and you know it. I know it, too. Besides, I don’t think this could work longer given how rarely I get to see you due to your work. General Naird might be the guy for you, who knows. Adrian, it’s important that you do what feels right, not forcing yourself into something that might hurt you more.” Jerome feels like he could go further into this, but lecturing somebody like Mallory about emotions would be in vain. The man knew enough, even if he didn’t want to listen now or admit it. Denial could only work for so long. Sooner or later the scientist would understand it himself.

“Don’t say that… I mean, for one he’s straight and married.” Adrian’s exasperated and maybe more than just a little sad. “I love you, you know that!”

“You don’t, you wouldn’t have said what you said if you didn’t mean it. Just because you were drunk, doesn’t mean you were lying.” Jerome argues. “Either way, you’ll figure it out. I’m always there for you—as a friend at least.”

“Please…” There are so many things he’d rather say, but – Lalosz really did have him floored when they first met. Of course, it was beyond that now. The man was smart, even if a little peculiar. He probably understood Adrian better than anticipated.

“It’s fine. Just know I really did have a good time when I was with you. Thank you for that, Adrian. I really hope we can stay friends.” Yet, Mallory was being dumped and he couldn’t even think of a reasonable way to fix it. There’s no way around it, if somebody didn’t want to stay with him, he had no right to force them.

“Yeah, all right. I think we can… Thank you, Jerome.” Adrian mutters, feeling so terrible about this that he can’t even articulate it properly. Instead, the desire to go upstairs and crawl into his bed would have been preferred but work needed him. Or at least he thought so. For a split second, he contemplates if disappearing completely would really be that harmful to the Space Force.

“Goodbye, Adrian.” Jerome says, eventually, and hangs up after the sentence is mirrored at him. Adrian drops his phone onto the passenger seat and rests his head against the steering wheel. Things just keep getting better and better, don’t they?

After a minute, he straightens back up in the driver’s seat and feels a great sense numbness wash over him… Terrible was not the right word for it anymore. He felt somehow even worse. Regardless, he starts the engine. Being dumped over the phone was not going to be the end of the world for him.

* * *

Having an invasive object inside of himself should have felt off… It doesn’t. The doctor told Mark, that the bullet’s removal might have caused more damage, and it was better to leave it in. Mark waved it off, knowing people with similar fates from his war-filled past and accepted this. Whatever he was alive. But it’s complicated; he’s drugged up on so many pain killers that he sleeps through most of the days here. However, when he’s awake, he swears he can feel it. It should bother him—it doesn’t. He feels odd about it, sure, but it’s not upset. He doesn’t feel upset about any of this at all. He feels satisfied with what he did, even if it ended poorly. It wasn’t even about proving a point, it was about being there and doing what he thought was right. Even if now he’s in a hospital. The nurses tell him he’ll be out in a week. That he has dissolving stitches, so he wouldn’t have to worry about the removal. He should calm down at that.

And hell, the police when they visited him when he was awake… That was more grating than he anticipated, more infuriating than living with the fact that he got shot. Rude questions, annoying air around them. He doesn’t want to think about it. The younger of the officers seemed content in making assumptions, instead of listening. Well, it didn’t matter now, not really. They’ll lazily stumble to do their work, surely, but for now, Mark was just laying in the hospital bed, staring vacantly at the ceiling.

He was lonely. Erin can barely come to visit, school and no car or driver's license were getting in the way of it as she worded it. And everyone else didn’t know him all that well… maybe except Adrian. But Adrian… Well, he seemed content in ignoring him. This provided a weird swelling in the General’s chest at the mere thought of. At first, he worried about what it may be. Perhaps a complication? No, sadly it was just his emotions getting the better of him. He hated to admit that this was making him upset. Being lonely was no reason to be upset! Surely, he just needed to get over it. Even if he finds himself too often wondering what the others are doing. If the base is fine. Too often catches himself pondering if the scientist is okay, but always shifts his focus from that then. It was awkward to bring up to himself. He needed to think of the bigger picture. Just aimlessly thinking ‘oh god I hope Mallory is fine’ is not going to get him anywhere or do anything besides making him depressed. Which in all honesty, it shouldn’t. Mark thinks he should be fine. What was there to even be troubled about now? Everything was said and done. If Dr. Mallory didn’t want to see him, then it was fine. Nothing to be hurt about. Same, of course, for Erin. But the thought of her not visiting didn’t do as much harm to him. It was different even if it shouldn’t be.

How did the concern for Adrian Mallory take more charge than the concern for his actual family?

Regardless, when he contacted Maggie after the first day or two of sleeping mostly, she sounded worried. He took refuge in that. She cared, but also couldn’t be here. He was alone.

Mark thinks of when he was still in the Air Force when he got shot down. That he managed to carry himself out of that with little to no regard because he knew he couldn’t hurt the ones he loved by just letting himself die. Now, he contemplates if dying from this would have been better. It wasn’t a gratifying thought, exacerbating the whole situation further into worse for his mental state. Naird worries about having to go into counseling of any sort. Hopes he can loophole his way out of that. He was in charge, he could just avoid it. Get back to what mattered—work. Boots on the moon and all that didn’t mean that much to him at this instant.

Kelly had called him. Asked if he was okay, he chuckled, told her he was. Didn’t feel like unloading the whole ordeal onto her. She promised to visit when she could. He told her she shouldn’t. Doesn’t think she’ll listen.

But Kelly King… he hasn’t been thinking of her that much, but it was nice to know she cared enough to contact him. Felt nice to matter to somebody. But he didn’t want to hurt her, didn’t want to make things worse. Decided that next time he sees her, he’s going, to be honest with her. An infatuation is just that, it holds no real merit. Maybe that was a bad way to look at it, but he really felt no spark anymore now that he thought about it.

Mark’s been doing a lot of thinking in the hospital. In his defense, there was nothing else to do and he wasn’t as stupid as he appeared at times. Maybe all this time for reflecting would be good.

* * *

On the opposite end of the spectrum was Dr. Adrian Mallory, who after another annoying day at work came home, confused as to what’s the point of bothering anymore… The difference was that he didn’t want to think about anything but work now. He would have buried himself in things that needed to be done at the office, but – what good would his distracted and exhausted mind bring to the table? He’d just make errors and then have to fix them when his mind cleared up and that would just make a bad image for him. Not overdoing it was crucial; nobody needed to know he was at such a state.

Instead, upon entering the house, he checked his cabinets to make sure he had no more alcohol, and upon this sad discovery, he reprimands himself for it. Getting drunk nightly was not going to go well for him. He needed to get his act together. So instead, he cleans up the living room where he drank the previous night, then makes a point to walk around his apartment and check if anything else needed tidying. It would be a good way to get his mind off things…

Yet, whatever organized chaos was his house—he didn’t see a point in fixing it. All was well as it was. Or perhaps it was the slight laziness that overtook him. Regardless, he knew if he started putting things away or sorting them he’d stay up all night and he needed the sleep now more than ever.

So, Adrian Mallory sat in his living room… thinking of his next step towards distracting himself from Mark Naird.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you, johnbrannox, for beta reading this chapter. It is greatly appreciated!
> 
> Hopefully, this chapter doesn't feel too much like filler, but in my defense, I needed to space out what happens between the last chapter and the next one.

The Space Force’s base echoed in chatter and footsteps, as the day was in full swing. While nothing spectacular, it was functioning much like a decapitated chicken without its very own Chief. Just barely moving enough to create the illusion of it being actually alive… The scientist can’t stop making that comparison. General Naird’s presence was lacking and it affected everyone, even the parties that thought this wouldn’t affect them. Oh, what a mess…

Adrian’s in the middle of paperwork in his office when his phone starts buzzing. As it begins to vibrate on his desk, he jumps at the sudden loud sound. He hates this, hates being called up nowadays. Wants to be left alone… But upon seeing the caller ID this doesn’t lessen, he shifts in his chair, picking up the gadget. Sighs a bit too heavily, and answers.

“Hello, Mark.”

“Hey, this might be too much to ask, but do you have my car, by any chance…?” Mark’s voice is strained over the other end. Adrian replies too quickly yet doesn’t know why.

“Yes.”

“Could you pick me up next week? They’re saying I’ll be released then.” Mark’s voice gave away that his usual puppy dog demeanor was still gone, too low on energy to act like it. Other things holding it back as well, most likely. Mallory worries, as his tongue traced over his healing lip. This wasn’t too much to ask at all, it would be common decency. But Mark’s the last person the doctor wants to see these days.

“All right, just text me when and I’ll be there to get you.” Regardless, he doesn’t know why he agrees.

“Thanks.” Mark doesn’t hang up and they sit in discomfort over the silence for a moment too long.

“Is there anything else?” Eventually, the scientist inquires, ready to see where this would go and not at all at the same time.

“No, not really… It’s just—I haven’t seen you in a couple of days. Are you okay?”

“I’m more than fine.” Mallory lies. Knows he should’ve asked the other man that, instead. But this was no time to get mad at himself. “How are you?”

“I’m good.” Mark seems to echo in the falsity. Adrian picks up on it, doesn’t buy it for a second but says nothing about it. It’s easier to delude themselves into thinking everything was fine, wasn’t it? That this wasn’t a strain to both of them, for whatever reason and that it won’t be—or rather, isn’t—a strong hit to their friendship.

“I’ll be there, I’ll pick you up.”

“Thanks, again.” This time Naird hangs up and Mallory doesn’t flinch or move an inch from his spot after the conversation is over. He stares blankly at the dark screen of his phone. Wonders why he was so easy to manipulate by the other. Adrian had no delusions that the man could like him back, yet he would go running to him if need be… Walk through hell for him? Maybe not so much. At least not in the current standing of their relationship. He needs to stop being so absolutely whipped.

He pauses, thinking back on it. He wants Mark to “like” him, almost making it sound as if it were some high school crush. He was far too old for that… He was in love. That was scarier to say, but closer to the truth. He needed to remember to word it as that, to avoid softening it. It would do him better to just rip off the Band-Aid— desensitize himself to it all. Hopeful that then it stops hurting…

For now, however, he places his phone back on his desk and gets back to work. This was too troublesome to dwell on for too long now, he wouldn’t get anything done if he did.

* * *

A day over from the phone call and Mark still feels like utter shit. He feels awful for having to rely on a man that was avoiding him, forcing the other to see him, despite Mallory’s reluctance in the matter. Even if he agreed, it was common human empathy doing its work. But that couldn’t be helped, however, because Mark did need his car back one way or another. But his thoughts get interrupted.

The summer sun shines brightly through the hospital window, clinging to the General’s skin like fire. It was too hot, too intense. He wanted to turn away from it, but if he turned to his side he would put pressure on the injury—getting out of bed seemed more optimal than pressing down where it hurt. So Mark tries to get out of bed, but even with all these painkillers taken it stings badly. Eventually, he sits up on the side of it, still facing the sun. What a terrible thing it was.

He feels light, faint even, but the injury cries out still. Wants to lie back down and pass out. But that was becoming too much of a bad habit, he needed to move. Naird breathes to alleviate himself of the pain he’s currently feeling. A deep breath in and out. He keeps at it till he feels like he can stand. Holding on to the railing of the bed, he manages, despite his legs feeling like jelly. He hasn’t walked in a few days, so there’s no surprise there.

Naird steps out of his room carefully, befriending the walls and other surfaces he could lean on along the way. This was a good thrust forward. If he starts moving around now, he won’t be in such a terrible state later, right? Well, at least he hoped so.

As he made his way down the corridor, he pauses, leans against the wall, and takes another deep breath. Nobody was paying much mind to him, whether it was employees or other patients. He turns to walk back, deciding that walking up to and from this point was best for him now.

Mark spots a nurse, worriedly coming out of his room, looking around till they spot him. The figure approaches him in quick steps, and Naird curses quietly.

“Sir, are you okay?” Is the first thing the worker says, once in earshot. The nurse was a young man or at least younger than Mark. His face betrayed deep concern for the general, his body language mostly giving it away.

“Yeah… just wanted to go on a walk.” Mark explains, ready to be scolded and ordered to go back to bed, but none of that comes.

“Then I’ll keep you company.” The younger man explains, taking a position by the General’s side.

“Thanks, but it’s fine.” Mark waves the man off, but the other doesn’t budge.

“No, no, sir, I can’t have you collapsing here. I should stay by your side.” He smiles then, politely, so the older man has no choice but to accept his fate.

They take several steps forward in quiet, and it’s not exactly uncomfortable, but it isn’t even really pleasant. The youngster takes this the wrong way, even if the silence would have been preferred, he speaks up.

“I was here the night they brought you in, sir.” Mark glances at him, still walking with one hand against the wall. “The scruff suits you.”

“Thank you.” Naird says, however, he disagrees. It wasn’t a tidy look. He didn’t like it. “Is it okay for me to walk?” He asks, still taken aback by the lack of trouble he’s gotten himself into.

“Well, if you feel like it and it doesn’t hurt too badly, you’re fine. Your wound wasn’t exactly the worst-case scenario.” The nurse explains, his hand hovering over the older man’s back. Not touching, but making sure he’s in a position to catch him just in case.

“I’m on all these painkillers but it still hurts…” Mark complains more to himself than anybody else.

“You’re as pale as a sheet, too. But aside from that you seem fine. Don’t worry. We’re still going to release you in a week, so it’s really no problem for you to get back on your legs.” The nurse flashes another smile once again, equally as well-mannered.

“So I’ve heard.” Mark feels like he’s being tricked, doesn’t like it. Feels like he wants it too much to be true.

“It’s standard procedure, sir.”

“Noted.” Mark nods, reaching the door to his room. He feels like passing out again. Sighs and looks over his company. “I think I had enough walking for today.”

“Little steps, sir. You should feel better soon, I’m sure.” They round into the room and Mark sits down on the bed as soon as he reaches it. The nurse doesn’t move away from the door, watching over him.

“Right. Thank you.” He nods at the other. Mark lies down on the bed and stares back at the ceiling, but the side of his retina catches the sunbeams in the room. “Could you let the blinds down?”

“Of course.” The nurse quickly does as asked, and glances at Mark, who’s lying down with his eyes shut tight. Not asleep, yet, but tired. “I’ll go now. If anything, I’ll be around all night, sir.”

“Thanks.” Mark mutters again, feeling drained. He really needed to walk more if he wanted to get back to normal, didn’t he? Or maybe he’s just pushing himself again… The pain was a good distraction.

* * *

Several days pass in relative calm.

Adrian finds himself in his office, avoiding Fuck Tony who was still adamant that he was only working on damage control. He kept pestering the doctor about visiting the General, practically insisting on it. But Mallory simply provided fickle declines. Even if he wanted to see Mark, it would be weird. With his newly acquired realization, he feared to do or say more than he intended. Letting the other know how weak he made him. Especially, given the most recent development in his personal life.

While in his office, the door was unlocked, obviously… so it was really quite a surprise when the Media Manager didn’t bother him here… but nothing lasts forever.

Fuck Tony walked into the office on Friday. A week in since Mark was hospitalized, and he finally lost any and all semblance of respect for the chief scientist.

“Can I help you?” Adrian says in a manner that brutally suggests Tony should leave the room immediately. The young man doesn’t let up. He glares at the other harder if anything.

“You’re being absolutely useless.” Scarapiducci has a challenging air around him; Mallory looks at him surprised. Doesn’t question it, but his expression offers for the other to go on. “I heard through sources you’ve been avoiding visiting our General, instead opting to stay cooped up in your office. Seriously, what is wrong with you?”

“I don’t exactly have time to visit him every day, do I? Just like everyone else here, I have work to do. Besides, we’re just colleagues—somewhat friends if you look at it at an odd angle.” Mallory’s just trying to get out of this situation, more so than possibly anything else. He doesn’t want to be guilt-tripped. “If you’re so concerned about him, why don’t you visit our General yourself?” He finally advises in a sarcastic enough matter.

“C’mon, everyone knows you’ve had a thing for him since you started working here. Why the hell don’t you just try even a little?” Tony says, so sure of himself, that it irritates Adrian to no end.

“I have no clue what you’re talking about.” The scientist returns to his papers, trying to not look at the nuisance that was in his office right now.

“You know what? Fine, whatever—enjoy sulking about it instead.” With that declaration, Fuck Tony exits the crowdedly furnished office, still absolutely livid.

Adrian looks up only when he’s sure the younger man is gone. Looks at his open door, tries to withhold himself from swearing or complaining to nothingness. Instead, he stands up and walks to it, closes the door. Returns to his chair, into which he drops unceremoniously. Takes out his phone in contemplation only to see a new notification.

Usually a text like “1100, Tuesday” would have been creepily cryptic if it had been from anyone else but the sender in question was none other than Mark Naird… given his history of overall behavior (whether it was a façade to upkeep or whatever), now more so than ever… Mallory was not confused or even the slightest thrown off.

‘K.’ and ‘Will be there.’ are Adrian’s texts back, still sitting in his office. He places the phone in his pocket sighing and afterward leaning on his desk, rubbing his temple as he tries to maintain composure.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The shaving scene is literally only here for two reasons: 1. fluff, and 2. to appease the evil dandy spirit that got me to the point of this fic even being written. (jkjk I love you, you anonymous fool).  
> Thank you once again Nxcht for being a wonderful beta!! I appreciate it greatly.

It’s Sunday when Kelly King walks into Mark’s room and utter panic overtakes him at him knowing full well what he promised himself to tell her. He fears her reaction, fears having to deal with it, and being at fault.

“Hey there.” She says, smiling at him. And he does the same at her without much thought attached to it.

“You didn’t have to visit, you know.” He says, sitting up slightly in bed and it hurts him but he ignores the pain. Seemingly it still flashed through his face as she approaches him in a heartbeat and helps him position himself slightly.

“I wanted to check up on you…” She confesses. “Sorry, I couldn’t do it earlier. There was a lot to do.”

“It’s okay.” It’s not, he’s been insanely lonely at that point, it was exhausting. He never thought of himself as particularly extroverted, but being this alone, barely talking to anyone—it left him drained. But he should probably get around to the un-fun part of this. Didn’t want to make the wrong impression and drag on.

“How have you been? When are you going to get released?” She sits down on the bed, somewhat carefully just to be by his side.

“Good, yeah. I’m leaving in a couple of days, actually.” He can’t take the pleasantries too well; he just wants to be left alone again. The silence was preferred than trying to make it out like he was all fine and dandy. “Right… Um… There’s something I need to tell you…” He’s concerned again.

He takes a minute, looking away from her eyes, fumbling with his hands as he tries to think of how to say this. She tries to catch his eyes then, worried for him, nudging his shoulder gingerly.

“What is it, Mark?” Her voice and tone are soft, god. He can’t do it. But he has to. It’s not good to drag out things—right? It can’t be good.

“Kelly, I’m sorry, I just don’t think we clicked.” Mark blurts out at her as he raises his eyes to meet hers and she just stares, shocked. Dammit, was Naird the asshole here or what?

“Oh.” That’s all she says after a too-long pause between them. He can’t believe it, expected more of a struggle.

“I just… feel like it’s better for us to not be together.” He worries. Doesn’t know how to explain it to make her know he means it. That this isn’t an ‘I want to put you out of a position of being hurt’ and more of an ‘I just don’t think of you that way anymore’ type thing… Really more of an ‘I don’t think of you anymore at all’ type thing, but one would digress.

Kelly nods, looking away, now somewhat more collected.

“Okay.” She says, her hands clinging to her summer dress. God, she was so pretty, he forgot… But he still didn’t want for this to continue. “Why?” She doesn’t sound mad, more just—curious?

“I don’t know. I just… spent a lot of time thinking here, and I realized it was more like I was using you than I felt anything for you.” He explains, hoping this won’t further drive the knife into her back. He feels like a treacherous bastard. He wants to stop talking, pass out, and wake up the next day when everything is fine again.

“You weren’t.” She says, shaking her head lightly. “It was fine.”

“I’m sorry.”

“If anything, I felt the same way. Don’t worry about it, though. I think it’s probably better this way.” She pats him on the shoulder lightly, before leaning over and pecking his cheek. “Thank you, General.”

And with that, she takes steady steps towards the door. About to leave the poor man just there, with his thoughts again. He says nothing to stop her.

* * *

At ten in the morning on the exact Tuesday Mark texted him about, the scientist locks up his office door, says goodbye to Dr. Chan in the lab quickly (after he informed him of his departure for the day and that he isn’t sure he’d return later today—not to be overdramatic, but alas—if he needed to sulk afterward, he might not want to do so at work).

“Good luck.” Kaifang says absently enough, not meaning much by it as he continued to look over the plants he was currently working on but Adrian mutters ‘thanks, I’ll need it’ before leaving. Completely misses the younger doctor’s eyes looking up at him with mild concern.

Mallory steps out of the base’s building, having walked through the halls and up to Mark’s car with unhelpful fidgeting in his hands. They feel slightly shaky and he’s unsure how to prevent it. Can’t reason with himself why this is happening. He’s about to open his door when a familiar voice comes up behind him. He sighs.

“Hey, you’re going to the hospital, right?”

Adrian turns to face Erin, who was bearing a particularly disheveled look today. He’d ask, but part of him understands that she probably did something to get suspended and rushed here… There’s no real question about it. Didn’t have to be Sherlock Holmes to figure that one out, given her previous actions he’s heard of.

“Want to go with me?” He asks, motioning to the vehicle. Hoping she’d say no, but knowing full well she will agree.

“Yeah, man.” She beams at him, and it’s almost charming. He says nothing, just nods, and unlocks the door. She rushes around it and gets in the passenger seat, thankfully. Well, of course, she did, it’d be too awkward otherwise, but he’s still feeling grateful for it. Adrian starts the car, with all the luck of it starting up properly… The General had taken good care of the machine.

They’re off the base when the girl takes her phone and a cord from her backpack. It’s not going to be a long drive but… it’s going to be a long one, emotionally at least. Adrian didn’t particularly care for music, didn’t mind pop, but he feared what she would offer. He didn’t know her all that well.

“Mind if I play some music?” She asks but is already done connecting the aux cord, looking through her playlist on the phone.

“Sure…” He mutters back, content on not having a conversation at all, just endure whatever will happen. He already knew what he planned—get Naird (or both of the Nairds, now) home and call a taxi to get to his place to pick up his car. At least word it like that, he wasn’t certain if ditching work today was going to be worth it, but that was his plan. There’s still much to think about in that regard. However, he’s been numbing to the hurtful side of it all. Maybe almost feeling better. Not so much on the topic of how he felt for Mark, but the situation wore off its initial shock, leaving instead sickness when he thought about it—more so in the regard of possibly losing the General in such a ridiculous situation.

Erin decides on a song, plays it. It’s pop-ish. Sounds like something he knew, but not enough to identify. Must have been something he heard at a mall months ago, but isn’t certain. Unfortunately, finds himself listening to the lyrics which leaves his heart aching from projecting onto it. Yeah, his feelings for Mark were not going away… This was maddening.

* * *

By the point they arrive at the hospital floor that had Mark on it, there still was no real conversation taking place. Even as Erin shot him glances, he still was content on simply not talking. Engaging in conversation with her would probably result poorly.

In the General’s room, he already stands changed into clean civilian clothes. A button-up, a sweater on top, and jeans. Nothing spectacular… He’s holding a shaving kit in his hands and looks over his two guests surprised.

“Hey, bug, I didn’t know you’d come…” Mark doesn’t have to force a smile, it’s genuine—he’s glad she’s there. But he is slightly confused, can’t be helped. While not an unwelcomed surprise, it was a surprise nonetheless.

“Yeah, well—I did.” The young girl says, sitting down on the bed while he moves away towards the bathroom adjoining the room. It sort of lands Adrian to be standing in discomfort as Erin browsers her phone. The scientist looks over to General Naird, who struggles slightly with his hands, trying to prepare for the last thing he’s going to do in the hospital, eventually sighing as if this was going to be a great feat to accomplish. Adrian, for whatever reason, decides this was a better option than to stand around, waiting. He joins the other.

“I can help.” The Doctor says approaching him. Mark looks at him with usually docile eyes, to which Adrian merely shrugs as he picks up the shaving cream and razor, placing them closer to the sink and where the General was. The scientist moves in closer and Naird sighs and clings to the nearest surface he can hold on to as he leans his head back slightly. Adrian puts a towel under Mark's chin, gets to work.

Mallory applies the shaving cream carefully, trying not to get too distracted by the sensation of touching the other’s skin, which proved to be more difficult than he anticipated. Once done, he picks up the razor and places it gently against one edge of the formed scruff. He slides it down, not too lightly – just enough to actually get rid of the hair there. Then he repeats the motion several times in different spots of the face. Adrian leaves Mark with a mustache at one point, pulling away and staring at his face like that.

“Ever thought of that for a look?” He chuckles, contemplating leaving the General like this just to annoy him. The other finds no amusement in this, clearly.

“God, no, Adrian. I already tried this for a look—it didn’t go well. I didn’t think anyone would care, but turns out everyone thought it was hilarious back then.”

“Oh? You’ll have to show me pictures of that then.” The scientist’s enjoyment escalates.

“Thankfully, I have none of those.” Mark smirks back, this felt better for the two of them. Less pressured, less as if anything wrong had happened. Adrian cleans the razor again under the tap, and then moves in again, to get rid of the last offense. Once done, Adrian cleans off the tools, gets a towel.

“Actually, I don’t know if I should tell you this… but I have nobody else to turn to, and you’re a good friend.” Mark begins as Adrian dries off his face, making a loose ‘hmm’ sound to confirm he’s listening. “I kind of told Kelly that I don’t want to see her anymore, a few days ago.”

“What do you mean?” Adrian asked, genuinely confused as he pulls away further with everything done.

“The contractor, Kelly King. We went on some dates and I guess we just didn’t click.”

“Wait, you went on dates?” Adrian sounds more than a little astounded.

“Yeah—oh right, I didn’t tell you… Maggie and me are in an open relationship—“Adrian stares at the General, surprised. “Why are you looking at me like that?” For Adrian it was like the pearly gates opened to him, shining a bright light—before it all dimmed and they closed once more as the word "straight" flashed through his mind in obnoxious neon.s

“Nothing.” He eventually says, stepping back, sparing a glance at Erin who was with her earphones in apparently the entire time. Mallory tries to play his cards right. “Maybe you should try again, with a good friend, rather than somebody you barely know.” His words are obvious in meaning to him, but he almost prays that Mark doesn’t realize it.

“All I know here is men; anyway, I don’t think that would work out.” Naird lets his head down, looking bewildered at the scientist for the suggestion.

“Men can be equally troublesome, but I wouldn’t say it’s the worst option.” Adrian, looks away, putting the things back into the toiletry bag.

“I’m not gay.” Mark can only do so much to not raise his voice. “..or bisexual.”

“Sexuality is quite fluid, you’d come to find.” The other shrugs. Mark still feels odd about this.

“God, it’s so creepy when you say that.” Mark takes the bag when Adrian hands it to him, still not budging from the spot in the bathroom.

“Is it creepy or does it just challenge your idea of yourself, therefore making you uncomfortable?” Adrian is only half-joking at this point, he honestly wishes he hadn’t started this avenue of conversation, but it was too late.

Mark leaves the room, not answering; instead, he puts away everything into his bag and looks at Erin, who finally seems ample ready to listen to whatever was going to transpire next. Adrian decides he’ll halt the conversation for now. There will be plenty of other chances to try to pursue the General.

“Okay, bug, we should go.” Mark says to his daughter, who stands from the bed and looks around.

Adrian sighs, suddenly feeling too much like a chaperone for his liking.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I realize that logically talking, they probably live in the same neighborhood, but… let’s pretend they don’t. Let’s pretend that USSF wouldn’t keep all their employees in the same place. Please.  
> Also, Beta was busy so I had to just publish this one as is... rip. Apologies for any possible errors.

At the reception desk, the General signs the last of the papers, and he is once more reminded when to seek help in case of worsening. Despite Adrian’s better judgment, Mark carries his bag downstairs to the car. Erin took the flowers… Mallory wishes they could have left those behind. He felt increasingly more ill at ease around the Naird family, now, anyway—this was not helping.

They drive in pointless chatter, avoiding the previous topics that had been discussed between Mallory and the Chief of Operations. Probably, Mark took those words hurtfully, or he completely dismissed them, it was difficult to tell for the scientist, but he wasn’t going to push it—not now. He’ll have to wear him down for this, but doing so would make it obvious and if he made it obvious he risks losing whatever connection they currently had.

Besides, if apparently everyone already knew Adrian had ‘a thing’ for Mark, so then maybe Mark knew, too? Well, as the Doctor contemplates this, he was putting more faith in the General not being an oblivious mess—Mark had no clues about it, truthfully. He just thought they were good friends, amplifying the ‘were’ as he was still worried about Adrian finding a reason to dislike him and put them back on square one. Mark wasn’t sure what it was, exactly, but it was concerning him more and more.

They pull up at the house and Erin gets out first, walking to the house, as if feeling the heavy air between the two men—who incidentally don’t make a move to follow her.

Adrian takes out the car keys, once the engine is off, hands them to Mark who takes them but keeps his eyes on the other. 

“And your car is returned.” Adrian mutters, undoing his seat belt then, but once that’s done, he looks over at Mark, as if expecting for this conversation to continue. It does.

“How are you going to get home?” Mark’s inquiry is quite sweet, but Adrian keeps quiet for a split second.

“I’ll call a taxi.” He doesn’t want the other’s offer of kindness but sees it coming from a mile away.

“I could drive you home.” Ah, and here it is.

“Honestly, I’d rather you don’t.” It wasn’t just the need to avoid Mark, whether it is due to guilt or fear, but because he knew the other was currently heavily medicated for his pain. If he struggled to shave, Adrian fears to think of the other driving back alone.

“Are you going to be okay, then?” Mark’s face betrays just how worried he was for the other man. He couldn’t stop wondering why he was being ignored and all that.

“Why wouldn’t I be?” The concern makes him wonder if Naird himself is going to be okay, but that would be an odd sentiment now. The General shrugs then turns away.

“I’m sorry if I upset you—but I think I did what was right. It doesn’t bother me, you know—I don’t mind being shot.” Of course, he’d make it sound like that. Mark could very well be just as dramatic as Adrian.

“I’d rather you hadn’t done that. And wouldn’t do it ever again… I don’t think I was ever that scared…” Adrian admits, probably expressing more than he should.

“Well, I’m sure Jerome was helpful with—“

“We broke up.” Adrian interjects, instantly wishing he hadn’t.

“What?” Mark looks back, quickly, shocked.

“We broke up. Me and Jerome are no longer an item.” Adrian internally curses himself out, he needed to learn to keep his tongue in check.

“When did that happen?” Mark’s tone softens. Adrian doesn’t want to reply. Quite frankly, he stalls for a moment or two, pretending to try to recall the frame of time. But there’s no way of saying the truth without making it suspicious, is there?

“A week or so ago.” He tries to sound casual, really, even scratches the back of his neck in an attempt to make it casual. But he’s not sure it works.

“Why?”

“Let’s chalk it up to us not seeing our future as clearly together as we did before, alright?” Adrian moves his hand on the door, ready to get out and avoid this conversation escalating and giving him away. Mark nods but clearly is confused. That wasn’t much of an answer, at least not one he expected. However, tired as he was, he didn’t want to pursue this further.

Once they get out of the car, Adrian looks up a taxi service on his phone, dials the number. Mark, on the side of the vehicle, watches him closely. Once, the phone call is done, Adrian looks over to the other man only to catch his eyes quickly avert from him.

“You can wait inside if you want to.” Mark picks up his bag and only then shoots a look to the doctor.

“No, it’s fine. Shouldn’t be long.” Adrian declines, watches as Mark mutters an ‘okay’, and walks inside to place his bag. He quickly comes back to the porch, where he sits down on one of the chairs there and looks over to Adrian as an invitation to join him, a steady smile on his lips. The scientist simply cannot say no to that, so he does with great hesitance. There’s a big feeling of anxiety nuzzling in his chest, but he doesn’t want to pay mind to it. But he simply can’t.

Sitting down on the chair to Mark’s left, he doesn’t look at the General, instead keeps his eyes on the neighborhood, the road. Keeping to himself, trying not to think too much about the stakes here and all that. Would telling Mark straight up be too much? Would it be crossing the vast line that keeps them both getting along? Definitely, it would risk ending their friendly relationship as they know it… It’s not a risk worth taking, is it? Adrian huffs. Was it him or Mark making everything difficult? Certainly, Adrian could not expect the other to simply be something he’s not.

Even as fluid as he believed romantic and sexual attraction being, if Mark wasn’t open to the idea and it wasn’t him Adrian couldn’t but faith in it—he couldn’t do anything.

“I’m sorry about you and Jerome.” Mark finally speaks up, whether it’s because he meant it, suspected something, or just because he wanted to comfort the scientist.

“it's fine, I’m fine.” Adrian replies, but it isn’t believable enough. To avoid this topic further, he decides to return the notion. “Sorry about you and the contractor—“

“Kelly.”

“Right.” Adrian sort of feels out of it feels exhausted to have to even have this conversation. Too demanding to keep himself from being upfront, usually not a problem for him… He liked being upfront about everything, not just things he felt strongly against. It never crossed him that maybe he should stick the truth to himself.

“Are you… mad at me?” Mark asks, giving himself youthful energy, almost sounding like a child.

“What?” Adrian finally faces him, now at a complete loss. “Of course not.”

“I thought you were.” Mark admits, averting his gaze to the street exit, waiting for the taxi to pull up.

“That’s ridiculous, why would I be.” Adrian tries to put him at ease, but all he gets is a half-hearted shrug.

“Something is bothering you and it’s driving me up the wall that I can’t help.” Mark suspects something serious, worries too much. Adrian can’t help it, wants to jump to the occasion, but it doesn’t feel right. Too much pressure.

“I don’t think you want part of this…” Adrian looks him over, till the General has no choice but to look at him. And at that moment, the scientist’s heart melts a little. His god damn eyes are too earnest, too kind.

“You’re a good friend, it wouldn’t be a problem.”

The car they waited for pulls into the street, driving up to the house. Adrian glances at it, stands, but faces the other man once more.

“I’d like you to tell me. I want to help.” Mark says as if it’d replace a goodbye.

“I like you.” Adrian says, finally, deciding to just take the plunge.

“Yeah, I like you, too.” Mark smiles, sincerely.

“No, Mark, not the way I like you.” Adrian replies and quickly walks to the waiting cab. He gets in and soon enough drives off, leaving Naird sitting on his porch in utter confusion. He stays there, still for a moment till it finally clicks into place.

“Oh, fuck.” Mark mutters to himself, eyes wide and he quickly stands up, causing himself pain. He hisses out at the sensation, then sighs, and walks inside. There in the bag he digs out one of his personal phone and searches up the right contact. Of course, Adrian would drop something like that and just leave. What the hell was Mark to do?

Well, for a start he calls up the scientist’s phone but is directed straight to voice mail.

“Fuck… Adrian, you can’t say that and leave! Call me back, or come back—I don’t know, we need to talk!” With that out of the way, he hangs up.

Erin walks into the living room, where her father was currently pacing back and forth.

“You okay?” She says, not entirely concerned but surely curious about what was happening. Mark halts in his circle, looks at her.

“Yeah, it’s nothing. I need to get back to work tomorrow. I’ll take a shower...” The General is less carrying out a conversation, rather thinking out loud. He goes upstairs, with less of a jump in his step and more of a drag. Erin watches, amused.

* * *

Adrian walks home, eyeing the growing list of messages on his phone – all from Mark. Yeah, he screwed it up today. ‘We need to talk.’ And ‘Call me!’ and so on… If Mallory was any less of a cynic, he’d get hopeful about all this. But he’s not stupid; he knows he’s ruined everything. So, trailing his way to the kitchen, he sits down and sighs, burying his face in his hands. He needed to learn to shut the hell up sometimes. His tongue was his own worst enemy.

He knew he still had no liquor in his house; going to buy some would only install a new sense of disgust in him. He couldn’t go back to that place. He didn’t want to, more so. He’d rather just stay home. Making matters worse, of course, he considers if going to the convenience store would be easier, but the selection there would not have been to his liking.

Instead, he rests on the table, aimlessly tries to think of what to do.

The work he did here was all he wanted, he couldn’t just leave but, would it be so terrible? He needed to sort himself out. Any destroyed friendship will have to take a back seat. Only if it gets too difficult will he quit, Mallory decides. Yeah, he just needed to think this through.

* * *

Upon getting out of the shower, Mark checks his phone to only find no replies from Adrian. Irritated he sat down on the edge of the bed. Composing another text would be a waste of time if he hadn’t replied to anything yet. But after a minute too long of fumbling to write something then deleting it, he tosses the device back on his bed where it lands on his pillows.

Naird grunts, getting off the bed and getting a clean set of clothes. Fine, he’ll sort this out another way.

* * *

Adrian is halfway through some boring show on TV. A rare feat for him, as television usually bored him… as it did now, but most often he’d turn it off and do something productive, this time he felt satisfied just sulking in front of the screen.

He hears a knock on his door, persistently rings through his small house. He sighs, turns off the small screen, gets off his couch, and walks up to it to only open it without too much thought. Seeing who it was, he was filled with regret for simply not pretending he wasn’t home. Not that it would have worked, but one could dream.

Mark barges inside, sliding past the other who simply grits his teeth.

“Of course, Mark, make yourself at home.” Mallory spits, irritated, glaring at the General who ignores him. Instead, after several minutes of aimlessly looking around the house (almost as if to ensure nobody else was there), Mark looks at him with an incredibly determined air around him. “How did you know I was home?”

“Brad said you’re not at work, I checked here first… Listen, that doesn’t matter anyway, you can’t say such things and just leave, Adrian!”

“What’s the point in staying!? You’re not gay, and you don’t love me. It’s fine. You just wanted me to be honest, so I was.”

Mark would stop, get hung up on the ‘love’ word, but if he were to be completely honest… everything just really fell into place for him and he was trying to take charge of this situation. Unfortunately, he just intimidatingly steps up the other who steps back from him. This goes on till he has Adrian against the door.

“Seriously, _Naird_ , what the hell do you want?” The scientist makes a point to use the surname as if to amplify how annoyed he was.

“You’re confusing me, _Dr. Mallory_.” Mark mirrors it. “I can’t figure out what’s bothering me about you… You always were a good friend and then you just drop that and run? Do you have any idea how that’s going to affect me, at the least?”

“I don’t have to explain myself to you.” Adrian feels himself getting red hot angry at the General, as this was out of line, obviously. Mark puffs out air, like some sort of cartoon character, and then rests his arm against the door, really leaving Mallory with only one exit from this position.

“Listen, I think… and I only just started thinking about it, I’m not certain about it—but…” Mark begins, then looks at Adrian’s eyes, averts his gaze to the floor. Feeling scared and vulnerable about what he’s about to say himself. “I want to give this a shot, I don’t want to rush into it—but I don’t want to hurt you either… Adrian, do you maybe want to do this, too?” Naird meets Mallory’s surprised stare then. Bites his lip, without much thought—just running on the concern.

As for Mallory, this was far from what he had expected in a million years.

“I thought you found me creepy in that sense…” Adrian replies intentionally mean.

“Yeah, well, I’ve been noted to be an idiot when I’m scared.” Mark drops his arm from the door, steps back finally giving space to the scientist. The doctor looks him over; the bastard standing in front of him was actually capable of admitting his flaws. Incredible.

Without even a second thought, Adrian walks into Mark’s space and kisses him for the first time, but hopefully not the last. Mark stiffens, but then quickly places his hands on Adrian’s hips, pulls him closer and allows himself to deepen the contact. This was going to be a long series of new things for Mark, but maybe – just maybe—he’ll figure himself out.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry, this one took a bit longer. I'm not satisfied but at this point, it's whatever...  
> Thank you to everyone who is leaving nice comments on this fic! I appreciate it a lot, it really makes me happy but unfortunately, my own inability to write well is bogging me down.

They tumble towards the living room, with mainly Adrian leading them there. Once he presses Mark against the couch, however, the General pushes for them to reverse the position. Mallory struggles to allow it, mostly because he simply enjoyed being troublesome. Mark pulls back from the other, hands jumping to his pants when Adrian stops him, pulling the digits away from the clothes they were currently offending. 

“Not now, you’re going to get hurt…” Adrian’s voice offers some sort of comfort while being obviously scolding for even considering this.

“Right.” Mark breathes out, then leans in and begins kissing Adrian’s neck. It’s a couple of sloppy kisses, till he lands on a spot that has Mallory whimper.

“Don’t.” He says when he feels Mark’s grin spread warmly against his skin. But the bite that comes after has the scientist clinging to the General, as his knees buckle. “Fuck.” Adrian drags out and quickly steps away; pulling out of the enclosed space he was currently sharing with the other man.

“Come on, I thought you wanted this.” Mark huffs in frustration.

“Too soon. Once again, I don’t want you to get hurt.” Adrian reasons.

“I’m not going to get hurt. I know you wouldn’t allow that.”

This seems as enough to send the scientist’s mind running. Adrian at that moment knew what Mark needed. Fortunately or unfortunately-- it was him. He was needed in the General's life more than just as a friend. A fulfilling feeling washes over the scientists... this was the best he could have hoped for. Maybe a bit too centered on the desires of the flesh, but he could develop from there on out.

Not wanting to give in yet, Adrian walks closer and leans into Mark’s space, planting a quick kiss on his lips, ready to pull away when the other man grabs him by the nape, lightly, and drags him close again. Their lips lock, deepening the kiss over and over again between intervals of trying to pull apart yet ultimately failing. Eventually, they do when they run low on oxygen and there’s only carbon dioxide between them. Adrian grins, oddly satisfied at this. Then looks over Mark, and kisses him again. Naird retaliates. Lust-ridden, while doing this Mallory undoes Mark’s hoodie, gets rid of it efficiently resulting in it lying on the floor. Then the chief scientist pulls away, leaving the general annoyed at the loss of contact. The bearded man drops to his knees, managing to take down Mark’s pants along with himself. He should know better than to do this.

The doctor sighs, looking over Mark’s boxers, however as tasteless as it felt, he didn’t comment. Instead, he moves to remove them, at which the other tenses and leans more against his couch, gripping at the edge of it. Fidgeting as his already half-hard member is taken into the other’s mouth. Adrian begins moving, the man above grits his teeth, trying to ensure he makes no sound. This is only a new challenge for Mallory and he doesn’t mind. An initiative to work harder. And he does.

“Oh shit.” Mark mutters voice out of control. No longer low and in charge, as the scientist wanted and anticipated. It sends a shiver down Adrian’s spine, regardless. “Wait, wait, wait.” The General proceeds to whine out, fast, and the doctor smirks, self-satisfied at this accomplishment. “No, Adrian you really need to stop.”

“Why? Are you going to—“Mallory pulls away, but upon raising his eyes, he notes the spot of red liquid on the other’s shirt seeping through. Instantly panic takes over. He springs up. “Mark, are you okay?”

“I think I ripped my stitches.” Naird explains, clearing his throat. Then rather embarrassingly looking down at his pants around his ankles. Mallory understands and rushes to get them back up. Once done, Adrian looks around wide-eyed.

“Shit, what do we do?” He says, before taking Mark’s elbow to anchor him.

“I don’t know.” Mark raises his shirt to inspect the damages done, but it only seems there’s blood there, no actual rips. The scientist stills at the sight of the injury, feeling his blood cool at the mere image—instead of focusing on the reveal of the General’s abdomen. “Okay, you were right. Raincheck, then? We’ll get back to this later.”

“Absolutely.” Adrian nods once he comes to his senses, accepting that this will have to wait now as he originally intended, but still somewhat disappointed. “Should I get you to a clinic?”

“No, I’ll be fine.” Mark’s voice is determined to not let this happen. Not to mention even if they got their story straight, it would be awkward to return so soon after. “How about this, a date… Dinner first, okay? We’ll go from there.” Mark looks at Adrian’s eyes, gauging for a reaction, to which the other simply calms down somewhat and smiles.

“I would like that.” Mark mirrors the expression tenfold, grinning widely, kisses Adrian again, this time having enough sense to pull away.

“In that case, I’m going home. We’ll sort this out later.” Mark, still holding himself up against the couch, steps slightly to the side, and Adrian’s thoughts from before finish catching up to him.

“Wait.” Adrian grabs him by the elbow, now somewhat roughly, not a thing that Mark enjoyed but he wasn’t going to complain about it. Not now.

“What?” He’s calm.

“Did you drive here?” Mallory’s expression is one of genuine confusion, edging onto being somewhat offended.

“I didn’t have much of a choice, you were ignoring my calls.” Mark mutters, then steps further towards the door as Adrian drops his hand from him.

“I thought I ruined everything— Never mind, I can’t let you drive home in this state.”

“I’ll be fine.” The words offer reassurance, but not enough to put the other’s mind at ease. Adrian didn’t like this but arguing right now would be futile. He accepts it with a sigh and a nod.

“Then at least let’s clean off the blood.” The suggestion is sound, but Mark contemplates it for a second or two. With a quiet ‘right’ from him, they move into the kitchen, where Adrian contemplates his options. Paper towels would stick, he can’t use anything wet in case he would make it worse… He grabs a new towel from one of his drawers there, not thinking much of it.

Approaching Mark, he motions for him to sit down at one of the chairs which reluctantly the General does and raises his shirt again. Adrian lightly dabs the cloth against Mark’s skin, picking up the red till he can see the skin underneath.

“It stopped bleeding, so whatever it was – it wasn’t serious.” Mark comments, looking down.

“You probably just tensed up…” Adrian replies, adding to the pool of theories of what may have caused it. “Remember what they said. You’re not supposed to be doing any heavy lifting or such for a while…” Adrian presses the towel once more, holds it there, and looks up at Mark. Naird smirks.

“In that case, we’ll have to postpone for a long while.” He says with faux disappointment, which probably was only a front for the actual disappointment that he felt—even if he didn’t see a point in rushing, he did want this. Adrian chuckles back, then stands up, moving Mark’s hand to hold the fabric in place.

“Whatever. Just get home and clean up.” He pats him on the knee, and Mark follows the action with his eyes. There’s a genuine joy inside him at that, but he won’t voice it. Not now, this would be too soon, wouldn’t it?

Naird straightens up and stands, then walks to the door, with the scientist following him as if he’s going to collapse any moment.

“Should I keep my Friday clear for our date then?” Adrian inquires, leaning against the open doorframe as Mark is about to leave.

“Yeah, I’ll figure something out.” Naird says, then quickly kisses Adrian one last time there and rushes to his car.

Mallory stays watching the other drive away till he’s out of sight, then with a slight shake of his head he closes the door, steps back into the house. He notes Mark’s discarded hoodie on the floor and picks it up. He should return it… or he could just keep it. A giddy thought washes over him at the idea of trying to wear it. Not his style, sure, but it was probably around his size anyway. He places it on the back of the couch and then looks around his living room.

What was he to do now?

* * *

Wednesday, the proverbial hill that needed to be climbed was halfway done if one were to look at it that way, but it’s the first day in a while that Adrian is not feeling like utter shit turning up to work. If anything, there’s a slight bounce in his step, feeling particularly gleeful now. If he had known that this entire situation would play out like this—and that such weight were to be lifted off his shoulders—he’d have confessed to Mark over and over again on so many occasions. It was a ridiculous thought, but what was he to do? Every time he even thought of the General the corners of his mouth took mind of their own and forced themselves up, a dumb smile on his face all the way to work. Unfortunately, that had a quick end.

Spotting a far too familiar at this point car in the parking lot, he gets out of his and looks it over, confused for a split second. Then with a grit of his teeth and very annoyed aura, he walked straight to the Chief of operation’s office and ignoring Brad (not like he would stop him), he entered through the door.

“What the hell are you doing here?” Adrian announces almost like a greeting. Mark looks up from his desk, bewildered.

“What?” He replies, stupidly and all that Mallory does is glare.

“You’re supposed to be home, recovering! Not at work!” The explanation, while correct, only angered the General in return.

“I’m fine! I don’t need to stay at home.” Naird begins, standing up. “Besides, there’s a ton of work I need to catch up on.”

“You’re going to exhaust yourself!” The scientist moves further into the room, not seeing the curious looks the two of them were getting from the other General in the reception room.

“Thank you for the concern, but I am doing great. I don’t need this. You can leave now.” Mark shoots back, a sardonic smirk on his face. He wasn’t sure why this was happening or why it mattered in the long run, he did have work to get to and it seems Adrian practically got off on arguing with him.

“Go. The. Hell. Home.” The other punctuates every word as if to amplify how seriously he meant them.

Mark lets his head down, counts to ten. He didn’t want to be going through this, but also—what the hell was he to do now? He didn’t intend to go back, nor did he want to tense this newfound relationship they just entered. The choices weren’t exactly optimal.

“Can you not do this?” Eventually, the Four-Star General speaks up, clenching his fist in an attempt to not get as angry. It didn’t really work.

“What? Show worry over an idiot who can’t even do one thing right?” Mallory’s beyond livid, frankly, he really was having none of this. The frustration ran high between the two of them. Had either of them been paying attention to their surroundings, they’d have seen that Brad had exited the scene.

“Adrian!” Mark’s common reaction to whenever the other man said anything he didn’t approve on, but that did nothing either. “The hell’s gotten into you?”

Adrian blanks, staring at the other for a moment longer before the anger returns tenfold.

“Oh, sorry—I just almost lost you before; don’t want you to get worse! I guess I’m being stupid here.”

Mark is about to reply just as biting when a voice interrupts both of them.

“Can you keep it down?” Tony seems utterly annoyed at this point, and the two men stare at him dumbfounded. Astonished that he even dared to enter the room. “Seriously, guys, I’m pretty sure everyone heard you.” This seems to give some level of embarrassment for both of them as they quickly exchange glances. Mark looks down, while Adrian observes this and then forces an annoyed expression.

“Yeah, well you can deal with sending him home then.” The scientist puts a dot there, walking out of the room and making his way to the labs. Meanwhile, Fuck Tony just stares at Naird who eventually raises his eyes and shoots daggers at the media manager.

“Get the fuck out of my office.” He says, and Scarapiducci scrambles out of the room, now, suddenly feeling somewhat threatened enough to not want to stick around.


End file.
